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The way I see life is, we’re all here on this little adventure in our human spacesuit. We know we won’t be here forever, but there’s some space and time to fill out the in between part. From a very young age, I never fit in. I could never force myself to do what convention says to do, for the sake of doing it, because the nagging feeling that to do that would be a waste of the life I’ve been given was always present. I didn’t want to waste this chance to dive in, explore, and play at life as if this is my one shot as Sue Ann Pien in all eternity.

I think people forget about that – the fact that nobody else will ever be able to go through life the way they uniquely can, and that THERE IS NO WRONG WAY TO GO ABOUT IT. Our life is our masterpiece as artists, and some people might like it, others might not, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as we expressed ourselves to our truest and honest ability – when we hold back, we’re the only ones who know something is off, and the world then misses a very important piece of the kaleidoscopic artwork we’re all making together here on Earth.

That’s probably why acting’s been my calling from a super young age – because it allows me to dive in and explore all aspects of humanity, some that I’m not allowed to do IRL. I actually like those roles best – the scary, strange, upsetting parts that also lend realness to what we experience in human living. My philosophy on exploration actually goes beyond just what I do as an actor – it also goes into my choices in life.

A few years ago, I decided to sign up for a one-way journey to Mars with the non-profit company Mars One. Space exploration is a passionate hobby of mine I’ve held since childhood, as I come from a family of aerospace workers and grew up seeing real live rockets at my mom’s open house and listening to black hole theories from my aspie engineer dad. I still believe it’s a way for us to move beyond the small-mindedness of greed, scarcity, and power struggles we have today on the planet: once we open the cosmos we’re going to change the consciousness of what it means to be a human being in an irreversible way. We’ll understand there’s so much more growing and learning to do, and that we’re barely beginning to understand what possibilities lie ahead.

The big stuff excites me, and I have theories about this – I’ve been using the filmmaking medium to explore and communicate intense ideas that can transform the way people think and I’m developing a sci-fi storyline that does the same for how we think about ourselves if we go forward into the cosmos to plant new life on various star systems. Eventually, we will become the aliens, if we aren’t them already (quantum / time travel theories)…

I’ve been lucky to have an incredible life where I’ve moved past the internal voices that tell me I’m not supposed to do something I feel drawn to because I need to live a life that fits the mold. The more I break through these voices, the more I’m able to create what I’m truly called to do, and ultimately, the happier I am. I believe when we’re passionately living the life we’re designed to live, and have joy, it subconsciously grants others that same energy to choose a life they’d love to live. And ultimately, that will lead to more happiness to our species as a whole. Unhappy people tend to cause others more unhappiness, and vice versa.

Recently, I started a band with some friends to take out my frustration, joys, and angst about anything in life through the expression of melodic sound. It’s been cathartic. We’re called Widow’s Weeds and we actually just played a live show, and we’ll be playing another show on St. Patrick’s Day (March 17th) at The Hotel Cafe with my wife Cynthia Catania headlining – come check us out!

We’re always bombarded by how great it is to pursue your passion, etc – but we’ve spoken with enough people to know that it’s not always easy. Overall, would you say things have been easy for you?

It hasn’t been a smooth road at all and I think that’s okay because that’s what makes it all worthwhile. If everything is great all the time, then I’d forget that the good times shouldn’t be taken for granted, and that I have a lot in life to be thankful for today because there’s been insanely bad moments I’ve had to go through this lifetime. Painful experiences from my childhood led me to make unwise decisions that created more pain throughout my teenage years and my 20s. I was suicidal by the time I was 15 and ended up in a hospital on a respirator because I tried to kill myself. By the time I was 19, I was arrested for felony possession with intent to sell ecstasy pills. If it wasn’t for a few intense experiences in my life, including a near-death experience, the complete abstinence from drugs and alcohol, and these leadership trainings called Worldworks that built a foundation for me to realize I can make a difference in other people’s lives, I’d probably not be alive today.

I think the worst is now behind me, only because the person I’ve grown into has so much more ability to handle all the stuff life gives us. I was never taught how to handle life’s challenges in a healthy way, and I’ve had to really find out for myself the best way to make it through the more harrowing moments of becoming an adult. I’ve been in therapy and that’s been a lifesaver, because there’s so much stigma against anything which requires a psychologist in the Chinese community. There are vicious fights that nobody talks about behind closed doors, while families simply ice out another member of the family pretending everything is still okay – nobody stops to think, “this is some unhealthy relational behavior that we’re passing down to the next generation, maybe we should go to a couples’ counselor, or seek therapy for these issues”. I’m breaking these cycles of pain by healing all this trauma through outside help so that I don’t cause others unnecessary suffering or hardship. In fact, I have to do this healing if I’d like to be in a healthy relationship – either with my co-workers, my friends, my band, or my wife.

I think as a young person, there’s a lot of bravado when we venture forth – whether it’s choosing a field that seems impossible or crazy to make a living in (like acting), or simply falling in love. We put our heart and souls into it, and I think that’s what creates a lot of quick success easily when we’re in our 20s. That was true for me at least – I had walked into my first agency with no experience, and just said I really wanted representation (Q Model Management) and I remember sitting there chatting with the agent (who was really interviewing me) and just blah blah blah-ing about nothing in particular, but feeling really good about what I had to say. It was enough for her to take me on as a client, and before I knew it, I had booked my second audition ever, which was a national commercial that made me SAG eligible. That’s an unreal feeling to get exactly what you aim for and I thought that was the norm then. I walked into every audition after that thinking it’d be just as easy to book, and, of course – that wasn’t the case.

This was over 10 years ago, and what I’ve learned is nothing will be a shortcut to doing the work of whatever craft / career / vision / goal we’ve chosen in our lifetimes. NOTHING. You can be really good looking, but you’ll reach a point where that can only get you so far. You can come from famous parents or be born into it, but that’s very easy to then fuck up. You can have all the money in the world but no talent or passion. Or you can have all the talent in the world, but no discipline or commitment to show up consistently. And there’s a lot of misconception about the life of an actor and it’s taken me over 10 years to fully submit myself to the work, study, focus, and appreciation of this amazing art form I’ve chosen as a career. I’ve spent many years escaping this work but I’ve always had to come back to it, and I’m finally now in a place where I do it because I love it, and nothing else can trump that – not whether I get a role I really want, or make money at it (which is very nice when I do), or when I’m just tired of the auditioning merry-go-round.

That’s why it’s important to have so much more grounding in life elsewhere when one acts, because the gravity of a full life outside of the business side of acting is what’s going to keep you centered when everything is unstable. I’ve seen friends go from barely scraping by one week to suddenly landing a series regular role, and then people who had the bells and whistles have to go back to another form of earning income – nothing is guaranteed when you’re an actor. I think that’s why the other parts of making movies has become very enticing for me in recent years – especially directing. There was a lot of freedom to create something from scratch, using my full network of talented friends in a way that made the final outcome bigger than any of us individually. That’s been really rewarding, and I’m lucky to have directed two music videos I got to cast and come up with the concept for myself. The next move is writing my own scripted material that can turn all of it into a creative dream maker of sorts, where my visions just become moving pictures I use to explain what I see to an audience that wants to view it.

So let’s switch gears a bit and go into the Monolid Productions story. Tell us more about the business.

There’s been casting directors in Los Angeles that have silently watched me grow up in their audition rooms, moving from one decade of life to the next with me. That’s a strange feeling I never knew I’d have – a sense of pride that I’ve been able to stay at my craft for as long as I have, and still feel a sense of elation when I act. I began at a time when there weren’t many Asian people being casted, and I still remember my agent being hesitant to represent me because of the lack of breakdowns for Asian people. Times have changed, although we’re still vastly underrepresented in the American film world, we now at least have a presence and can expect lead roles to come our way.

I’ve also had very unexpected twists and turns in my journey publicly, because my outside interest in space has garnered a lot of media attention when I was chosen as one of the original Mars One 100 candidates. This was a strange moment in my life, because I saw the possibility of where my life could go, and what purpose it can serve. I guess that’s what also makes me the actor I am, when I begin to live in my characters’ possibilities (and there are infinite ones us humans can choose from), I can truly create the entire lifetime of that world and make it seem so real. I guess some people would call it method acting, but I’ve always been curious about other people’s lives, and would make elaborate storylines to match characters I’d inhabit temporarily just for fun, and be so committed to that person I now became. My best friend in high school used to say it was like watching a whole new person every year that went by – I was a gangbanger one year, then I became a raver, but I mostly live easiest as a very intelligent nerd. Maybe it’s the Aspergers side of my family that comes into play there…

Has luck played a meaningful role in your life and business?

Everything is connected, and there are no coincidences. That being said, I’ve experienced some of the most unbelievable “luck” when I’ve directed my music videos. This last one is a PJ Harvey cover of “Down By the Water” by The Secret Things that takes on the theme of a mother wanting to kill her obviously transgender child (the original song was also about filicide, but I got the intuitive hit to create it as a message showcasing the plight of transgender people).

As I was in pre-production, I met my DP Michael Khachadoorian while he was the only customer in Cindy’s Diner in Eagle Rock where I work as a waitress. There was nobody else in the diner at the time, so we ended up having a conversation while he sat at the counter. When he told me he was a DP, I showed him my website and what I was about to direct, and he absolutely wanted to be involved. I’d find out that he had an aunt (who used to be an uncle), that he thought was very brave and wanted to honor as part of the theme of this music video. He is phenomenal, and a God-send. You can see the difference in camera work between my first music video “All the Way Down”, where I had to carry the camera all by myself as I directed, to “Down By the Water” where it just looks so freakin’ expensive. We had, like a nothing budget. I’m very grateful for all the friends that came together to make this happen – I mean, none of it was something I’d be able to do, unless I’m a wizard, and I’m not. This is what we call Higher Power.

I live by the principle now that if something is meant to happen, nothing I can do will make it happen faster or ruin it – and if something is not meant to happen, nothing I can do can make it so and that there’s an element of protection in every case of rejection I encounter. It’s been working out very well to live this philosophy thoroughly.

The Ugliness of Childhood (My Molestation Story)

My body began to tell a story my mind stopped comprehending long ago and I felt my mouth move as if on its own saying the words, “I didn’t do anything wrong, I shouldn’t have to feel this shame or be silent.” The rage and sorrow welled. Then revulsion began to rise and exit me in heaves of sobs, gagging me, as the poison of his secrets found their way out of my body. It was like breathing for the first time ever. My breaths catching nourishing oxygen in places that have never received this air — and for a moment, I glimpse the expanse of freedom that awaits.

This is the story of my childhood molestation — of a man who was trusted to watch and care for me (and other young girls) and his betrayal of that trust. He was a substitute teacher in his job, and what he did to me that day would shape and form much of the lonely, regretful, lovely, and broken woman I grew up to be. In letting this secret go, I’m allowing my healing to finally take place decades after having my first non-consensual sexual experience at 7 years old with a 40-something year old grown man.

The shock of that day tremors through me still, sometimes with a therapist, and sometimes unexpectedly. Like the first time I read that script about a mom with a young daughter molested by a family friend. I was asked to audition for the role of that mother, but upon finishing the script I began dry heaving and sobbing uncontrollably, unable to stop my body’s violent reactions. My conscious mind was unable to understand what was happening — after all, the molestation occurred only once in my memory, and happened over 30 years ago. But this reaction lasted days. Nearly 4 years after I took my last sip of alcohol and after much hard work to build a life I could be proud of, I felt like everything was falling apart from within. In therapy, I’d learned the emotions were coming up now because my life finally had stability, a safety that I never could grasp until now. My body, the keeper of long-forgotten oaths, felt safe enough to purge the toxicity hidden away by the younger me, who couldn’t find safety to express the danger she was in and the violation she felt.

For the next year after that script broke that inner dam of secrecy, I’d experience the trauma my little 7 year old self was never able to. I’d finally learn where my uncleansable shame came from and how all my efforts to look perfect on the outside couldn’t hide the depth of ugliness I felt on the inside. Those sobs shook loose hideous pain and rage that are now finding release through these words.

I was certain I’d made peace with it — quietly accepting that there will be no consequences to his actions, telling myself that it wasn’t that bad compared to how awful some other types of violent rape and childhood sexual abuse can be and because he was also a sexual abuse survivor I had to find a way to forget about what happened.

His awkward attempts at apologizing for what he did just made him seem so…disabled. At 7, I felt bad for him — this stunted man-child who didn’t have the social acumen for adult friends, with his one glass eye that was a replacement for his real eye shot out by the other kids in his youth with a bee bee gun. I felt somehow responsible to forgive him and his awful actions because I was smart enough at 7 years old, a gifted student, to know this was someone who had suffered a lot at the hands of others and now, unfortunately, has become the cause of my own suffering. His guilt and inability to control his unhealed urges made me feel bad for him. My disassociation made it seem as if my own experience of what happened didn’t matter, and anything that was personal to me had to cease to exist in order to appease his all encompassing need of me. It was survival because I was in danger.

I felt gross and awkward, just like him, whenever he tried to talk to me afterwards. Like somehow I caused this violation where I was robbed of my innocence, purity, and power to choose how my body got turned on at 7, and bad that I couldn’t talk about what he did because I was somehow implicitly also at cause. Days after he touched me, I asked the Magic 8 Ball “Will Charlie go to hell for what he did?”, while he laid on the couch pretending to be asleep. In my naivety not knowing that an adult can pretend to be asleep and listen to a child talk I voiced that question out loud . He heard me and later would come find me to say he was sorry if he had hurt me. Whenever he spoke to me afterwards I would freeze and be unable to speak or look at him, as if I was a blind and deaf mute. I always felt trapped. Trapped the way I couldn’t move and couldn’t talk just like when I couldn’t get away from his big giant body, that was so oppressive next to my skinny little frame on that awful cat piss smelling couch; me feigning sleep as my only means of escape as his fingers kept crawling into my shorts.

Today, I saw a version of me that screamed, and cried, shoved him away, punched him, ran out the door and yelled for help while my mom took him to the cops so that he couldn’t do that to me ever or any other little girl. The guilt is overwhelming. I did none of that. I couldn’t. I was in shock. This was an adult who showed interest in who I was as a child, taking me to the magic shop to buy new tricks I was learning because I was going to be a magician. He was one of us — and we, the children, all loved him because he paid attention to us and our interests in a way that other adults didn’t do (sometimes not even our own parents). So I laid there, frozen, pretending to be asleep, trying to give him hints to please not touch me in that way, that it will ruin something good and wonderful forever. He didn’t stop, so I had to leave my body because it was too painful and to this day, my body has the same reaction to sex, when I’m making love — it starts to shut down, freezes, and tells me to fall asleep. I am smothered. I can’t breathe. I’m on the other side of the room. Out the door. On a plane. The sadness of all those who loved me.

But in the darkness, where this secret has been kept, in the darkness of the acts I’ve committed with the demons of others, amidst hazes of drugs and drunken stupor, I experienced what I can only imagine untouched normal people get to have when they have sex. That choice for sexual contact has never really been mine. At times, it belonged to the much older men I should never have given myself to — decrepit and disgusting, turned on in the way Charlie probably felt; excited at my complete indefensibility as my 16 year old, 18 year old, 22 year old, 24 year old, 28 year old body kept searching for truth by replaying out the secret past over and over again. Compulsive. Powerless. Ashamed. And sometimes my body is just taken from me because I lack the consciousness to move it away, safely. My throat closes, I cannot speak, I freeze, and pretend I am sleeping again. So I float — above it all, for years on end, I’ve floated in and out of the landscape of other people’s desires as they collide on the borderless country of my body.

At 7 years old, I lost a voice that I would not regain for many decades. Still second-guessing myself, and feeling like a bad person for talking about him, because anyone in my mom’s college circles would know who this man is and his fall would be complete if it hadn’t happened already. A therapist asked me to track him down so she can report him and make sure he is no longer around young children, especially as a teacher. I began crying when she asked me at the time and also as I write now because I couldn’t do it then and I don’t think I can do it now. I am not courageous or healed enough to confront him — and I may never be; and I cry because I do not want any other young children to lose themselves to this man, the way I lost myself as an adult struggling to combat the failed relationships, intimacy problems, poor choices and self-destructive compulsions, sexual dysfunction, and lack of trust of humans because an adult who should have cared for me betrayed me. There is guilt because I couldn’t be honest the one time I was asked if anything bad happened with Charlie, and when I was finally able to say it, I was met with denial, disgust, and negation from my primary caretaker — telling me that if it did happen, it must never be spoken of again. And so I held my breath and died a slow death.

This shame and burden I carried for over 30 years was never mine to begin with. I believed I was a disgusting person and when I was finally able to tell the one person I loved and trusted the most of what happened, her unmasked rejection of me drove the point home. If you are reading this, and you have gone through something similar, or if you are taking care of someone who is, please know there is nothing bad, ugly, or wrong about you (or your loved one who was sexually abused) — you are as clean as the white snows of Christmas in Norway, and you deserve to sing with the abandon of an angel in God’s choir. May your life find serenity from your most painful truths in the darkness.

I’ve met the ghosts of other women like myself, perpetually frozen in youth, half-thawed, frightened, beautiful, and oftentimes incorrigibly sexy — the way I once was, looking for the answer in unfulfilling sex and romance — and I want to save them. I want to tell them they are worthy of love. Of their own forgiveness. Of kindness and compassion from others. That they can be free to express their true selves, even when it’s not sexy — and they’ll be worthy. It’s okay to be imperfect and to be loved unconditionally. That the light will come to them when they are ready, and when it does, it will fill in all the stolen missing pieces of their soul, making them whole and good again.